


The Way Things Might Have Been

by Old1stStep (Simply8Steps)



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: (at times), Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Happy and Fluffy AU, Hint of Angst, Minor Character Death, Other Warnings in Individual Chapter Notes, underaged relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply8Steps/pseuds/Old1stStep
Summary: AU: What if Erik's mother had loved him? Would he still be the phantom? How would it change the story?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at a story with chapters and my first AU. I should warn those people who love angst and/or are VERY canon-attached that this story is of a lighter nature than the actual storyline since I've heard somewhere that a little love can go a long way in changing a person's life. It is EC but quite Raoul friendly. (Originally posted on FF.net 07/30/2005 and finished 09/18/2005.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. It belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The PHANTOM is owned by Susan Kay.

It was hot, _very_ hot on that midsummer evening, and the sweat mixed with the tears on the woman's face from the combined heat and pain. It did not help the woman in labor with the birthing process that was already complicated. She lay in the midst of several dirtied and twisted linens. The monastery where the event was taking place was filled with silence except for this room. Although the mother was too exhausted to make any sounds herself, the room was filled with activity and expectancy. Some sisters of the order rushed to and fro in order to gather the necessities: hot water, rags, etc. while others stood by quietly watching and praying. The midwife, meanwhile, guided and encouraged the woman through the conclusion of her pregnancy. It was a breech birth, a danger to both the life of the mother and child, but perhaps, it was meant to be…

With a final scream, it was over, and the woman had given birth to her first child. However, her feeling of relief was cruelly cut short by the horrified gasp, and, though she could not see, widening eyes of the midwife, now visibly shaking with fear. The room had fallen into a dreadful silence. All the tumult had ceased, but the woman now noticed that those who had not been shocked to silence now muttered prayers under their breath with feverish intensity. For a moment, the mother feared that her child had been stillborn. To her relief though, the beautiful cry of a healthy child sliced through the palpable silence of the room. "Please," she said in a barely audible voice, "please let me hold my child… please."

The midwife's gaze softened as she turned to the woman lying on the bed next to her. "It is a boy, my dear. You have a son, but perhaps you should wait and rest first. You have had a hard time." The midwife let out a sigh seeing the mother's stubborn and resolute face. Returning her gaze to the babe in her arms, she pitied the creature… both of them. It was… wrong. Half of the child's face was distorted beyond recognition, seemingly covered with the scars of ten lifetimes. While the left side was perfect and could have been carved by the angels, the right side seemed to have been burnt by the fires in the deepest pits of… The midwife's thoughts were interrupted by the desperate mother's raspy pleading. "Please…" The midwife sighed, giving in, and handed the babe over.

At her first glimpse of the child, her original reaction, of course, was a slight shock. However, her gaze soon became tender and loving as she lightly stroked the tuft of jet black hair and stared at the beautiful, deep blue-green eyes that were slightly tinged with gold. This was her son… _her_ son, and she would not care what he looked like. She vowed then and there, in her heart and out loud, "I will protect and care for him. My love shall _never_ be denied to my son." She then raised her eyes from her son to send a defiant glare at all the other women in the room as if challenging them to contradict her. The sisters continued to pray while the midwife was silent with amazement.

Looking down at her child again, she promised to save him from the life of an outcast, a life she knew well.

Madeleine Liszet had been born in a medium-sized town in the northwestern region of France. Her family was middle-class, not extremely wealthy but not poor either. Her father was a fairly successful merchant while her mother took care of Madeleine and her older sister and brother. She lived a comfortable life until the disasters struck. When she was nine, renewed chaos hit France as a revolution once again swept through the country toppling the unstable government. The atmosphere of violence and fervor surrounded the inhabitants of France with excitement as well as fear. In the tuberculosis epidemic that had led up to that point of history, both her father and sister, Marie, had perished. Her brother, Charles, had left for America only the year before, a land of new opportunities. He had eventually stopped writing and left his family wondering what had happened to him. This left Madeleine and her mother to fend for themselves. For a short while, they managed to survive on the remaining funds that her father had left, but soon… both had to work to keep themselves alive. That was how they lived for several years until a final disaster struck leaving Madeleine the only survivor of her family. Her mother had eventually died from a slow, painful, degenerative disease. It was after the funeral that Madeleine met Jacob Furerre. He introduced himself as a family friend. His father had worked with hers, and he had inherited the family's many successful wineries. Jacob made his attraction to Madeleine quite apparent; her good looks were quite known throughout the area although her impoverished conditions had always served as a deterrent to many of the other men. Jacob had no worry about money and married her within several months. At first, their marriage was happy… comfortable. However, Jacob's infatuation soon wore off. He would disappear on "business trips" for weeks at a time. When Madeleine had told him of her pregnancy, however, he was infuriated. He had thrown her out with a few meager possessions and some money. She worked her way east, away from her past although still remaining in the north with its familiar countryside. When she reached _that_ point in her pregnancy however, she had sought shelter at this monastery, and that was how she was there now, under the charity of God…

Madeleine suddenly became aware of the heaviness in her eyelids as she came out of her reverie. She once again looked at the babe nestled to her bosom. A name… she needed a name for her son. "Erik… His name shall be Erik Liszet." She gave him her maiden name for he, in all technicalities, had no father. Finally she let the consciousness that she had gripped so tightly flee. Humming a soft tune, she fell asleep with the weight of her new son in her arms.

Madeleine slowly emerged from the darkness as she woke up. Sitting up from her cot in the monastery infirmary in a fresh nightgown that someone had changed her into during the night, the first thing that registered in her mind was that it was sometime past midday judging from the amount of sunlight pouring into the room through the large window on the opposite side of the room. Suddenly, she remembered. "My son… where's my son?" Panic now flooded her as she got off the cot, ignoring the searing pain stimulated by her movement. Her entire body was one big ache. The room was empty; her babe was not there. That one thought reverberated in her mind. She rushed towards the door, but as she reached for the handle, a pleasantly plump woman entered.

It was one of the matrons, the one who had first met Madeleine at the door of the monastery. She immediately began scolding Madeleine and dragged her back to the cot. "Darling, a woman of your condition shouldn't even _think_ of rising from bed! I'm Sister Agnes by the way, and yes," she cut in as Madeleine opened up her mouth to speak, "your boy is perfectly fine. The priest came in early this morning to baptize him." She placed the bundle that she had been holding into Madeleine's arms. "I've already taken care of anything that needs to be taken care of."

"Thank you, Sister."

"There's nothing to thank me for unless you expect a mere babe to feed and clothe himself." The nun chuckled merrily. "There is nothing to fear here. I will not care that he looks different. We are all children of God, created in his image, and those here who do not remember that are fools. I have a feeling that your child will do great things." She patted Madeleine gently on the shoulder. "Stay strong my dear… Now, I should think that you are hungry. I'll go grab you some grub from the kitchen."

"Thank you."

"Now, now… there's nothing to thank for although you may want to thank God that our usual cook, Sister Elsa, isn't here. Her cooking is quite awful," and Sister Agnes bustled out.

Madeleine sighed, releasing the tension of the past several months. She _was_ hungry. Settling back with the promise of nourishment, she sang to Erik a soft lullaby from home.

 

_five years later…_

In the small sitting room of a homely cottage, a five-year-old Erik was building _something_ using the pile of sticks he had gathered that afternoon and the clay that his mother had bought him. His mother was in the kitchen washing the dishes from their lunch that day. She hummed a soft tune as she worked. After she had left the monastery, she had worked and saved up enough money to buy this small but comfortable cottage on the outskirts of the small, northeastern town of Rienne.

When Madeleine finally finished, she went and stood at the doorway to watch her son at work. She had known for some time now that her son was special, beyond that of a normal genius or child prodigy. She had protected and loved him to the best of her ability, but he still suffered from the isolation that was a necessity. Already its effects could be seen…

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted. "Mama, mama! Look at my castle."

She smiled as she went in for a closer look. She let out a gasp of surprise and delight. "Why, it is wonderful Erik!" And indeed… it was. He had built a basic foundation of sticks and then used the clay to build the elegant, lifelike structure. Every detail was intricately carved allowing her to see the stonework, windows, turrets, and inside as well. It was the work of a master.

"Do you think that Gaspar and his friends would play with me if I showed it to them, Mama?"

"No, my child, I… I do not think that it's a very good idea."

"Oh…"

Madeleine frowned as she saw his tiny little face fall. They were all ignorant people. All because of his deformity, Erik was shunned by the children and their parents. She had tried to shield him from the world, but the damage has been done. Erik, even at this age had only two loves: his mother and the arts, especially music. He knew that he looked different from the others. Madeleine still remained eternally grateful to the previous owner of the cottage for leaving the library with all its books. Erik had already practically devoured every single one of them.

When Erik noticed his mother's frown and brooding face, he immediately wanted to cheer her up. He didn't like it when she was unhappy. Ignoring his own disappointment, he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the rocking chair in the warm sunshine. "Let's sing mama." They started a song about a lark and nightingale that his mother had taught him as a child.

Madeleine soon fell silent to listen to her son's voice. It swept her into a dream-world where her only awareness lay in the beautiful timbre of the voice and pure, sweet quality of the sound. Yes, his greatest gift was music. He already played both the harpsichord and violin, both also left by the previous owner, with the skill of a virtuoso and has composed some music of his own. His music could have made Mozart and Beethoven weep, while the angels in heaven would cry at the sound of his voice. She couldn't stop herself from asking silently, 'Why? Why? Why God did you give my son a demon's face but an angel's voice? What do you have planned for him?'

"Mama?" Erik had finished the song and was now gazing up at her.

"That was beautiful little one…"

 

_five years later…_

"Mama," a ten-year-old Erik protested as she continually fixed his hair and collar.

"Erik, remember what I have told you. Be careful, watch yourself, eat correctly, and write to me when you can."

"Yes, Mama."

"Also remember to…"

"Mama! I am just going to be an apprentice to the artist in the next town. I'm not going to war or anything like that."

"I just worry! You're so young still and who knows how long it'll be 'til I see you again."

"Don't worry Mama. I can take care of myself very well. I _am_ your son aren't I." Erik started heading towards the door with one final kiss.

"Wait, Erik, I have something for you." Madeleine held out a white half mask made of top quality leather.

Erik accepted it with shaking hands. "Mother, this must have cost a fortune! How did you…?"

"Hmpff… Don't worry about that. Francis had owed me a favor. Now try it on."

Erik unraveled the cloth he had been using until then and placed the mask on… It was a perfect fit, covering his entire deformity. "Thank you, mama," he said in a trembling voice.

"Now go before I make you stay."

As he passed the gate, he called back over his shoulder, "Don't worry mama! I'll make you proud of me."

Madeleine smiled and waved as she leaned against the doorway. "You already have, my son…"

Two tears silently made their ways down her face.

 

Erik could hardly believe it. It has already been four and a half years since he had left his mother's house… and her protection. In that span of time he had already changed a great deal. He had spent that time apprenticed to various artisans, artists, and musicians, mastering a large variety of skills and arts. He had also traveled a great deal, wandering across Europe and further. An iciness had also captured his heart though, and a coldness had leaked into his eyes. It was during this time that he came upon the realization that _ordinary_ people would never accept him. Even those masters who had at times seen his face accidentally were horrified by it. However, he never stayed with one for very long. He quickly gained experience and learned all they had to teach. He had been taught by professors, architects, composers, artists, craftsmen to businessmen, magicians, and even learned from a fencing master.

The latter became very useful indeed for self defense and was easy for him to master due to a natural grace that he had. He had even learned from tailors, chefs, and dancing masters. His intelligence and deftness had always surprised them. But now… _now_ he was returning home.

He may have left as boy, but he was returning as a young man. However, even if this was true, he was filled with apprehension. There was still a small part inside of him that was that young boy eager to please his mother. Even throughout his travels, he had made sure to write to his mother at least once a week. Now as he saw the approach of the cottage that had been his childhood home, fear flooded him that he had failed to fulfill that promise he made as he left all those years ago. As he dismounted from his horse and approached the gate, he suddenly stopped as he saw the slightly aged figure of his mother in the doorway.

Madeleine couldn't believe what she was seeing. He had said in his last letter that he had a surprise to send her, but this was beyond what she had expected. To see her son again… that was a dream she had cherished since the day after he left. She stared at him. Could this be her son? This… man with swept back black hair, piercing eyes, and an aura of control was her son? He was tall now: a bit over six feet probably and a strong build. The shock suddenly wore off and she almost ran towards him.

Erik's eyes had immediately softened upon seeing her. He could have laughed at the look of shock on her face if he hadn't been so nervous. When she quickly headed towards him though, he forgot about his hesitation and met her in the middle of yard, literally picking her up and twirling her around. She giggled at this when he let her down. "I've missed you too mother," he said dryly. He suddenly noticed that she looked thin and a bit careworn and overly pale. It worried him.

Madeleine studied him with a critical eye until she suddenly felt it, the pain, and she fell into a coughing fit. _Not now… please, not now._

Concern instantly flooded Erik when he saw the look of pain on her face, and he caught her as she fell coughing. Hurriedly, he carried her into the house out of the wind. Now, he noticed how light she was. He placed her on the divan and went to make some tea for her. When he saw her try to get up and speak, he stopped her and gently pushed her down. "Not now, mother. Rest first." He sang to her and watched as she fell asleep. He carried her into her bedroom. Then, he left and rushed to the physician in Rienne and asked him to see his mother. When they returned, he waited impatiently in the sitting room while the doctor looked at her.

The physician was pale and tired-looking as he went into the sitting room.

"Do you want any tea?"

"Yes, please…"

"Here. How is my mother?"

The physician wasted no time cutting to the chase. "I assume that she hasn't told you of her illness in the past several months?"

Erik frowned. "No she hasn't. How long will it be before she gets better?"

The doctor sighed, and immediately a pang of fear lanced through Erik. "Erik… it's your name correct? The ailment is terminal, and there is no cure for it as of yet."

"NO! No, this can't be!" Erik was instantly on his feet and pacing the room distractedly. The physician was very afraid although to his credit, he did not show it. Finally, Erik sighed. A defeated look entered his face. "Does she know of this?"

"Yes."

"Then thank you monsieur, for all your assistance." Erik handed him some money, clearly a sign of dismissal, but the physician shook his head and returned the money.

"No, monsieur, I have done nothing that deserves payment except become a messenger. Besides, Madame Liszet was a good woman. She helped my wife once when she was harassed by thugs. Take good care of her, Erik. She spoke very highly of you."

Erik was slightly shocked. Repeating another "thank you monsieur," he showed the doctor to the door. Then he turned to take care of his mother.

He spent the next few months trying to make her as comfortable and happy as possible. He pampered her and entertained her with everything he had learned. The only thing that had bothered her was his reluctance to take off the mask, even when it was only her present. She immediately saw that those several years in the world had made its mark on him. She could only hope that he would eventually learn to trust. For his fifteenth birthday, they had a small celebration. They spent the day outside with an abundant picnic. Although everything seemed fine, Erik could see her growing steadily weaker. It was one month after his birthday when she died. Erik would remember it for the rest of his life. However, she had looked strangely at peace as she lay on her deathbed. He would never forget her words: "Erik, my son, remember, you have made me very proud indeed. I love you, never forget that, and I'll always watch over you from the world of light above."

 

_one month later…_

Erik readied all his saddlebags as he placed it on Cesar's, his horse's, back. He turned and gave one last look at his childhood home. He had settled all the business, selling everything. All he had kept from the house was his mother's diary, her wedding ring, the violin, and a single book from the library: _The Rose and the Nightingale_.

After he made a final visit to her grave in the cathedral's cemetery, he turned in the direction of his uncertain future. He was heading towards Paris, the capital of France, but more specifically, he was heading towards the Paris Opera House, that even here won fame as a bustling world separate from everything else, exactly what he wanted.


	2. A Destined Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 notes.

Erik's first reaction upon seeing the architectural marvel that was the Opera Populaire was an overwhelming feeling of awe. Then, he studied it with a critical eye, one that he had trained under several master architects, but even then, he found few flaws, none that really stood out. However, a feeling of nervousness soon replaced the awe as he realized the amount of life bustling about the theatre. If he could have afforded it, he would have lived the life of a total recluse, avoiding all human contact. Unfortunately, that was not the case and life would go on. The feeling of isolation and loneliness had grown into his constant companion following his mother's death. He would live life with _no one_. He could only hope for a decent level of acceptance. He let out one last sigh and entered the building. If the outside had made him gape, then the inside certainly, and literally, took his breath away. It was a beauty beyond mortal comprehension. He hoped to add to it with his own skills. However, a treacherous voice whispered into his mind, "Do you _dare_ to defile this amazing beauty with your foulness? Who gave you the right to intrude into such a paradise? You should leave…" The voice was promptly cut off by the voice, a physical one, of another man.

"You there, who are you? From the looks of it, you do not seem to be here to attend the opera." The man was finely dressed and seemed to be followed by another man of similar fashion.

Erik quickly checked his anger and covered the expression on his face such that no emotion escaped. His pride was stabbed, but he did not want trouble, not now at least. He had to give their words veracity since he was dressed in work clothes. "Messieurs, you are quite correct. I am here in search of employment."

The two gentlemen at first just gave him a look, studying him, and then, they turned and gestured to him to follow them. "Monsieur, we are the managers of this opera house, and if you are seeking employment, then we'll see what we can do, and what you can do. Here is our office." The man who had been speaking then introduced himself as M. Debienne and his partner as M. Poligny. "Now monsieur, what have you to offer us?"

"My name is Erik, and I am quite… efficient in most areas of the arts as well as in trades such as carpentry and tailoring. However, my greatest talent lies in music."

"Hmm… interesting… are you learned?"

"Yes."

"The conductor, M. Reyer, has been searching for an assistant, and you might serve well there. The salary is decent, and we shall assess your proficiency there. Will you accept?"

"Yes." Although Erik still outwardly sounded perfectly controlled, his warm voice showed none of the enthusiasm that had suddenly sparked within him. This was _perfect_ , and he could still improve. As the conductor's assistant, he could be fully involved in the musical "on-goings" of the opera house.

"Then it is settled. We shall call someone to help you get your bearings here." M. Poligny spoke briefly to a young messenger, and a moment later, a young woman arrived. She had a severe yet still youthful face, average height, knowing blue eyes, a strict, straight bearing, and long braided auburn colored hair. "Erik, this is Mme. Giry. She is the ballet mistress here, but she is also quite knowledgeable about the theatre. Madame, Erik is to be M. Reyer's new assistant," the lady briefly raised one eyebrow at this, "Please help him get situated."

The woman only nodded her head and turned to lead Erik out when it suddenly dawn on him that neither of the managers had inquired about his mask. He stated this out loud, curiosity getting the better of him, and was met with a shocking answer. "It isn't our business to pry, as long as it does not interfere with your ability to work."

Mme. Giry then pulled him out of the office. "I suggest that we first go to see M. Reyer. Erik, do not be too surprised if he does not seem too pleased. The managers have been trying to force an assistant on him for ages. Their previous attempts have not been successful. He is a stubborn and demanding man but very dedicated. I think that you two will get on well."

"Madame, what do you mean?" It was a simple question, and her only answer was a smile.

Mme. Giry was only too correct when it came to M. Reyer's reaction to the news, but he immediately told Erik what was to be expected of him. "How much training have you received?"

"I am partially self-taught, but I have also trained under various masters."

M. Reyer then asked him a series of questions to test the extent of his training and musical knowledge. Erik answered all of them correctly, and although Reyer did not say it, he was slightly impressed. "Do you play any instruments?"

"I can sing, and I can play most instruments quite well."

"Well then, you will help me with the orchestration of the music as well as the tuning of the instruments. I will teach you the basics of conducting such that there will be a substitute should an emergency cause my absence. You will also be a second opinion during rehearsals, so make sure that you are present at _all_ practices. I will be expecting you first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes, monsieur." Erik gave a slight smile for the first time since his mother's passing. Mme. Giry, who had returned after checking on a ballet practice, then called Erik away again. She started talking to him, drawing information from him about himself. She surprised him. Erik found himself trusting this woman who had a very caring nature that was hidden by a strict exterior.

"Come Erik, there are two people I want you to meet." She brought him to a third floor corridor. First, she showed him his room-to-be, which was small but comfortable. Then, she brought him to the ballet dormitories that were mostly empty except for two young girls inside. She had ordered them to wait for her there following their practice. "Christine, Meg, will you please come here? Erik, this is my daughter Meg, and this is her friend Christine, who is also like a daughter to me." The first girl was quite adorable with curious blue eyes, straight blond hair, and a dimple on each cheek as she smiled and curtseyed. The second was a thin, fragile looking thing with curly hair, large chocolate, brown eyes that were filled with an unspeakable sadness, and very pale skin. She only offered him a slight smile that did not reach those gazing orbs before turning away to study the floor. "Okay, you may now go and enjoy yourselves but stay out of trouble." They both then left quickly together after giving her a slight hug. "No doubt, Erik, you are wondering why I introduced you to them?" She gave a soft sigh, gazing after them. "Erik, I believe that you are going to like it here, and you will fit in perfectly." She turned to Erik and spoke softly. "Erik, you have _nothing_ to fear here. I have already accepted you, M. Reyer has too, and I am sure that those two girls that just left have accepted you as well, although my little one is sure to be curious."

Erik did not know what to say. Slight tears had formed in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He could only whisper, "Thank you, Madame," but the tone of his voice said it all. Erik then moved to leave for his room, when he suddenly stopped. "Mme. Giry, may I learn some more about you, Meg, and Christine?"

"Of course, I grew up in the ballet dormitories here as well. I left for some time when I married. My husband died shortly after Meg's birth from sickness, and I was forced to raise her alone. I returned here to apply for a position, and I became the ballet mistress. Christine only came here a month ago after her father Gustave Daae passed away. She is an orphan now and quite alone. She is a lovely child, however, and I have come to see her as another daughter. I sometimes worry about her though." Here Mme. Giry sighed but then spoke up again, "Meg and Christine are both seven and a half now."

"Gustave Daae… I have heard of him before."

"I wouldn't be surprised. He is a famous Swedish violinist." Erik and Mme. Giry sunk into silence for a while. Erik felt an empathetic bond with young Christine. "Come Erik, I'm sure you must be hungry. I'll show you where the dining hall is."

That night, as Erik was returning to his own room, he heard someone crying from within the "ballet rats'" (a nickname he had already adopted in one day) dormitories. Normally, he would have ignored it or left it as a disagreement among the ballet rats themselves. However, he knew that the dancers were now having supper in the hall because he had just passed the bustling room minutes ago. He decided to take a quick look inside. He saw the girl, Christine, crying on her bed near the window, calling for her father. "Please papa, come back… I need you. I'm afraid papa. I'm… afraid of the dark and afraid to be alone."

Erik found himself unable to leave her to wallow in her own misery, so he slipped into the room as quick and silently as a dark cat. Then he thought, "What am I suppose to do?" He awkwardly placed a hand on the girl's thin shoulder, startling her as she emitted a small squeak and faced him with a set of "frightened doe" eyes. When she realized who he was, she blushed and whispered a soft "Oh…" Erik experienced the shock of a lifetime when she threw herself onto him and started to cry, heart breaking sobs that just as suddenly stopped. As if she finally realized what it was that she was doing, she pulled away from him with an embarrassed look and a soft, "I'm sorry." Both of them ended up sitting at the edge of her bed in a semi-comfortable silence.

"Do you want to tell me why you were crying, Christine?"

Christine shook her head, but seemingly gave up when she sighed. "You're the other lonely one. I can see it in your eyes. Mme. Giry told me that your mama died a few months ago, because she was sick, like my papa. Neither of them got better. My mama died when I was born, but papa loved her a lot. Do you miss your mama as much as I miss my papa?"

Erik was surprised. First because she knew so much about him, second because she was so innocent and yet so mature, third because that was the most he had heard her speak the entire time he was there, and finally, because her question shocked him with its intimacy and directness. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond but settled on a simple "yes."

Christine nodded, and they fell into silence again.

Erik had a sudden urge to want to hear her speak again. She had a beautiful voice. An idea entered his mind and he asked Christine, "Do you have an extra picture of your father?" She nodded. "Bring it, and come with me then." She went to retrieve it when another question penetrated his mind. "Christine, do you trust me?"

Christine gave a small smile and responded quietly, "Yes Erik, I trust you although I sometimes don't know why."

"Was that a joke?" Erik was incredulous, but he also wanted to see that smile. He could already tell that Christine use to be a bright, energetic girl before her father's death, and he found that he wanted to bring her out of her shell and guide her back to the world. It was inexplicable to him why he would feel this way. It was an… intuition of sorts.

Christine whispered softly now entirely serious, "Erik, I do not know why, but I would give you my soul if you asked it of me."

Erik was touched beyond comprehension, and so, he had no desire to understand. He led her downstairs to an underground chapel he had discovered on an unguided tour. He aimed to know every nook, cranny, and working in the opera house by the end of the week as well as to find a private place where he could work in peace. Now, he led Christine to a corner of the chapel where a rack of memorial candles stood. There was already one candle lit above the beautiful picture of Madeleine Liszet, his mother. He only glanced at it briefly before he proceeded to silently attach the picture of Gustave Daae in an empty spot and helped Christine light a candle. Christine then sent a silent prayer to her father, two delicate trails of tears making their way down her face. Christine then turned to Erik who stood patiently waiting in a corner. She was barely audible as she spoke, and Erik silently thanked God for giving him highly sensitive ears that were sometimes a curse. "Thank you Erik, but how did you know exactly what I needed?"

Erik merely gestured at the picture of his mother. "It had helped me with my grief, and I hoped that it would help to alleviate some of yours. In truth, the pain never goes away, but we have to cope with it. All I ever had was my mother. I never knew my father, and she never mentioned him in my presence. I had no friends because of what was under this mask although I have noticed that most people here choose to ignore the mask. When my mother died, I felt that I was entirely alone in this world. My world was one of darkness, entirely devoid of light except for the hard light of cold snow. The only thing that kept me alive was the memory of my mother and my music."

Christine was happy that Erik could trust her with his feelings and decided to repay him with the same. "My papa was my world. I never knew my mother, but papa always said that she was an angel. Your mama is very beautiful too. I didn't have many friends either since I lived by the sea with my papa alone. He would tell me stories of the north. They were beautiful, but my favorite was always about the Angel of Music. Papa promised to send me the Angel of Music when he went to heaven." It was there that the little girl fell into a contemplative silent.

The story of Christine's own isolated, though happy, childhood related to Erik's own, and he felt the bond between them grow stronger. He _knew_ how it felt.

Christine interrupted Erik's reverie was a hesitant question, "Erik, will _you_ be my Angel of Music? You are good like an angel and you most definitely sound like an angel." At his questioning glance, she explained, "I heard you singing in your room earlier. I used to sing while papa played the violin, but I stopped after he died."

Erik nodded before saying, dazed by her affection, "I'd be honored to be your Angel of Music although I don't think I deserve to be."

Christine gave him a vibrant smile. "Thank you, _mon ange_." She enveloped him in an amazingly strong hug, that he slowly returned, a small smile lighting up his visible features as well. That was how they remained until lights out. In each other, they had found the comfort they craved for. When Christine finally fell asleep, Erik carried her up to bed.

"At least now I know why she is so thin. She needs to stop skipping meals. I'm surprised Mme. Giry hadn't caught her yet."


	3. Time and Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skips, hops, and jumps...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, WARNING: attempted underaged sexual assault in this chapter.
> 
> I apologize again for the issues I clearly had with pacing... Again, I read and cringe more than a little bit.

Since that fateful day of their first meeting, a strong relationship was forged between Erik and Christine. He became her protective older brother, best friend, and confidant, roles he took very seriously. Christine also found another foster sibling, this time a sister, in Meg Giry who fulfilled the same roles. Although the three became an inseparable trio inside the opera house, there was a definite permanent link between Erik and Christine that no one ever questioned. Madame Giry also found her hands full with three children instead of one. Especially since they usually found an enjoyment in the occasional troublemaking, usually with Meg leading the gang, Christine joining in (and in doing so dragging Erik in as well), and ending with Erik bailing them out of trouble, contriving new excuses and alibis. In those youthful years, they drove the management to the edge of insanity and back, while the rest of the opera house staff, as long as they weren't the object of entertainment, found it thoroughly hilarious.

A year following Erik's arrival to the Opera Populaire, Erik was promoted to the position of "co-director of music." M. Reyer had found himself enjoying Erik's company, and he thoroughly appreciated his skills and talents. Erik became like a son to him, while Reyer became the father he never had. Reyer had once told Erik, "You _are_ a genius, my boy, and there will be no denying it. You are destined to do great things, among which, I hope, includes writing music that will sweep the people of our city off their feet." Erik did find himself composing privately in the underground haven he had built alongside the subterranean lake beneath the opera house. Sometimes, he would present a finished masterpiece to his surrogate family while other times, he kept it a secret, the jealous guardian of a marvelous treasure. In the course of that year, he had also promised Christine future voice lessons, when she had matured further and they were both less preoccupied: Christine with her ballet training and Erik with his music. In both disciplines, the first years were critical, developing the rhythm for future study. Erik also grew into the stereotypical artistic temperament: temperamental, a "slightly" bad temper, and prone to mood swings.

It was in that manner, a steady-pace of life with the occasional outburst of excitement that was common in theatre that two years of existence passed within the opera house. Finally, as his gift on Christine's tenth birthday, they began voice lessons. At first, he worked on technique, training and pushing his pupil to hone her instrument to crystal clarity where perfection was born. He also became aware of the unique beauty of her voice, its potential to one day match and blend with his own. He had in his hands the fledging of a gifted songbird that he must coax to fly. It was only after finishing with technique that he allowed himself to teach her how to make the music created with her voice to live… to _truly live_. "Christine, you need to encompass all that I have taught you before this point with a new sense of passion. Put feeling, whether of grief or joy, into every single tone you make."

Her lessons progressed for the next five years although Christine had gained her ultimate success in the first. That one night changed everything. It had been a week since their last lesson, the one that Erik had told her she must learn to put feeling into her song. As she sung for him that night, she fed… gorged the music with her emotions, using her fondest memories. She released her soul for him that night, and in return, she received his thanks when she saw the tears glisten in his eyes at the conclusion of her private performance. "My Christine… _that_ was true beauty." Christine immediately blushed at his praise.

"Erik…"

"No, I wouldn't say it unless I meant it. If I do say so myself, you've had a wonderful teacher."

"How modest of you kind sir!"

They both broke out laughing at that.

"Erik…" Christine was now entirely serious.

"Yes, my dear?"

Christine took a deep breath, which put Erik on his guard. "Erik, will you let me see you without the mask?"

He groaned, "Christine…"

"Please, Erik, I don't care what's underneath it… I just want to prove to you that I really don't care." She was practically begging now.

Erik prepared himself for one of the largest heartaches of his life as he tentatively removed the shield he had had on for so long. He had expected a large scene where there was a scream and crying, but there was only silence and then…

"Oh, Erik… Were you so silly to think that I would care?" He felt a soft hand on his disfigured right cheek. He had been wholly unprepared for this. _That_ side of his face had remained untouched since the day of his mother's death. Even now, Christine acted beyond her years. "You've given me so much that I have yet to return." With that, she gave him a quick kiss on the right side of his face, a purely platonic kiss from a sister to a brother that was still filled with a lovable affection, and wiped away the few tears that had leaked down. "I don't care and neither would Meg or Madame or… M. Reyer since he's always talking about how you did this and fixed that and this and that…"

Erik had to smile as she rolled her eyes. He silently thought, "I have found my sweet _muse_ …

* * *

 

For lessons after that night, they worked mainly on increasing her repertoire and correcting the occasional mistakes she made. He also told her stories of his past and some of the "adventures" he's had on his travels. He told her about his mother and about Nadir, a Persian he had met in Italy and one of his few friends. He still maintained an occasional contact with him.

By that time, Christine had also gained several minor roles in performances either as a dancer with Meg or a small singing part, despite his arguments with the management to give her some larger roles. Another sore point he had had with the new management, for messieurs Debienne and Poligny had left leaving a M. Lefevre, was when he had argued against hiring 'La Carlotta' as the new lead soprano, the new _prima donna_. "She may be a big name star, but she was a horrible singer and terrible to work with." However, all his arguments were ignored, and she came to the opera house with her condescending air, shrill voice, yapping poodle, and the faithful, lumbering, obese admirer Piangi (in Erik's view.)

It was also during this time that Erik fell in love with Christine. He remained quite unaware of this (and of the fact that Christine also returned his feelings) although it became quite obvious to everyone else. (They gave Madame Giry and Meg the largest headaches.) There were two separate instances that proved this.

The first occurred when Christine was thirteen and Erik was twenty-one. It was to be the first time Christine and Meg would attend the annual Masquerade Ball. Christine had matured into quite the beautiful young woman as well as Meg, and they both caught a lot of unwanted attention. Usually, their admirers were held at bay by the ever-watching eyes of Mme. Giry. However, that night was one of revelry and gaiety as well as alcohol. One stagehand… one properly _drunk_ stagehand saw Christine as she was returning to her room from the dance, given in to temptation, and promptly dragged her to a corner of the hallway and attempted to kiss and take advantage of her. She managed to cry out once before he smothered her with his mouth. She had begun crying when they heard an angry snarl, and the stagehand was bodily thrown from her into the opposite wall, knocking him out. She had almost passed out from fear, but when she saw Erik, she immediately ran into his waiting arms, whimpering.

Erik cast a disgusted glance at the crumpled figure on the ground, before he turned back to the weeping girl in his arms. He whispered some small words of comfort in her year before lifting and carrying her back to the room that she shared with Meg. Inside, he met the questioning glances of the two Girys before setting her on her bed. When her crying had abided, he asked, "Did he hurt you?" She shook her head. "Thank God! I'm going to have to talk to M. Lefevre about him."

"What happened?" demanded a worried Mme. Giry as Meg moved next to Christine to give her a reassuring hug.

"It was Gaston, the stagehand, but I stopped him before anything really happened. He's unconscious now in the hallway."

Erik shrugged in response to Mme. Giry's raised eyebrow.

A still trembling Christine then spoke, "Thanks Erik, I'm okay now. I… I guess I should go to sleep now. We have rehearsals tomorrow."

A worried Meg asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Christine? I'm sure mama could talk to the managers for you to let you rest tomorrow." Christine's voice had been a bit higher than usual.

"N-no… no I'm fine. I just need a good night's sleep."

"Okay, then we'll let you rest then."

Erik and Mme. Giry left with a concerned backwards glance while Meg returned back to her own bed while still constantly glancing at Christine's, even after she had pulled the curtains so that Meg couldn't actually see. Meg sighed. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

 

The second instance occurred during a particularly harsh January when Christine was fourteen. Meg had been watching Christine carefully during morning rehearsals since Christine had seemed even paler than usual and was making more missteps than normal. However, she had no chance to ask Erik for a second opinion since he had to go to fix a problem in the orchestra early that morning. Meg's premonitions proved true when she heard a scream… Christine had fainted at the side of thestage scaring several of the younger ballet rats. Meg rushed to Christine along with her mother.

One little girl, Cecil, asked, "I-is she d-dead?"

Meg shook her head. She felt Christine's forehead and gave a shout. "Mama," she exclaimed, "Christine is burning up!"

"We should get her to her room. Cecil, fetch the opera house physician please."

Meanwhile, Erik had heard the entire hubbub and had immediately rushed onto the stage. Worry lines littered his face, and his mouth was pulled into tight line. Hearing Mme. Giry, he immediately picked up Christine and carried her to her room. When the physician came in to examine her, his pronouncement was pneumonia. It was a bad case, but most likely, not fatal. For the next two days and nights, Erik never left her side, not even for work, Meg left only for practice at her mother's insistence and to bring nourishment for Erik, and Madame Giry, who although worried kept her head about her, came in whenever she could to check on Christine as well as to make sure that both Erik and Meg were still alive. When Christine had finally woken up for the delirious sleep that the laudanum had placed her under, Erik catered to her every need (to everyone's amusement) until she fully recovered. It was at this time that Erik realized just how much Christine meant to him. He was stunned to find himself neck-deep in _love_ with her. Now, his only fear was how to hide what he felt sure to be unrequited love.

* * *

 

Now you may ask, "What shall we do with two stubborn people who are deeply in love with each other, but too thick-headed to realize that at this point it is a two-way deal?" That is why we have dear Meg Giry…

She was soon tired of the two lovebirds dancing around each other as if the other might squawk if cuddled too hard, even if one was like a brother to her and the other a sister, so after rehearsals one day, she cornered each of them individually and forced Erik and Christine to confess their feelings about the other. Then she "forcefully" convinced them to tell the other that night during their lessons.

So that night, neither Christine nor Erik bothered with singing since both were too nervous and distanced to pay attention for long until finally, they both blurted out "I have something to tell you…" (The classic romance scene…) Once again at the same time, they both blurted out an "I love you…" after an awkward pause. Erik's eyes immediately widened as he let out a shaky breath. "You do?"

Christine immediately blushed and shyly nodded her head. He slowly approached her, as if she was a dream, a vision that would suddenly disappear. (Of this, he still wasn't sure if he was asleep or not.) He enveloped her gently in his arms and pushed his face into her curls to breath in her scent. "You're real," he said as if surprised. When Christine gave him a questioning glance, he only smiled and brushed back a stray curl. Without warning, his lips closed on hers, filled with an unbridled joy and passion that she reciprocated fully. When they finally pulled apart, their eyes remained locked on each other.

Erik finally cut in wryly, "The timing seems a little too perfect, so let me guess…"

"Meg," they both answered in unison.

"See, this is the reason why I refuse to let you choke her to death, even when she's being a pain. I think that…"

Erik cut her off quite effectively with a second kiss, this one just filled with a simple tender love that promised to bloom and mature with time… And in Christine's eyes, he saw the intensity of the love that teemed in her young heart, a look reflected in his own eyes.


	4. Enter the Stage, At Last!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the movie starts and the scene sets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized/remembered now that I de-aged several characters quite a bit, and I should ALSO warn that with the last chapter - there's an underaged relationship here... Nothing beyond kissing though.

 

_two years later… (1870)_

 

They had just begun rehearsal for _Hannibal_ that day, but most of the cast and crew were bustling with the latest rumors. Attention was limited that day, and it was already severely straining M. Reyer's patience. Even though it was Erik's rest day, it had become his habit to continue to stay and help despite the circumstances. Music was all the enjoyment he needed; besides, Christine will be dancing, and although, he had argued several times with the management about the "respectability" of the dancers' costumes, he still admired them.

Meanwhile, as Carlotta practiced on stage, Christine and Meg were rushing to warm-up exercises at the bar before they could be reprimanded by Mme. Giry… again. Just as they were preparing to enter the stage themselves, rehearsals were once again interrupted… this time, by M. Lefevre who acknowledged the rumors to being true and introduced the new managers: M. Andre and M. Firmin. Needless to say, they seemed to be the usual lot of managers.

"I don't like them." Erik had sneaked up behind Christine and Meg as the introductions were being made. Unnoticed, he had startled them with his abrupt statement.

"Erik, isn't it a bit too early to judge?" Christine asked.

"I'm not judging them. I'm just expressing an opinion based on a gut feeling and some insight on their records as businessmen. They don't have any idea what they are doing."

Meg and Christine just rolled their eyes. Their expressions said it all: _Men…_

Suddenly their small conversation was cut short as the new managers presented their new patron, the Viscount de Chagny.

"It's Raoul… We grew up together at the house by the sea. You could say that we were childhood sweethearts."

"Oh, Christine! He's so handsome."

"Childhood sweethearts, Christine?"

"Oh Erik! They are just fond memories. We've haven't kept in touch for years! Besides, I love you." Christine cast him an exasperated glance before reaching up to give him a small kiss.

Erik was mollified and a bit surprised by her kiss. She wasn't usually a very public person, but it still didn't keep him from sending a burning glare in the Viscount's direction.

"Not jealous, are we, Erik?" Meg teased.

"Why should I be jealous?" Erik put on his best affronted look, and that set the trio into quiet laughter again. However, when the Viscount passed, taking his leave, Erik couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that he hadn't recognized or seen Christine. When the music started up once again, he stepped back to watch while the dancers started their routine. He looked on as Mme. Giry ushered the managers out of the way, and He smirked. 'Just like a mother hen shooing away annoying bugs from the chicks she worked so hard to raise.' He frowned when he caught their subject of conversation. 'Meg…' He may not have any romantic attraction towards her, but it did not matter. She was like his younger sister and a good friend; he would NOT tolerate her being talked about in such a manner. He had to smile when Mme. Giry discouraged any ideas of them pursuing Meg simply by stating that she was her daughter. The managers however recovered quickly enough when Christine caught their eyes, and Erik couldn't help but emit a low growl. He was ready to march up there and choke Firmin to death, but Mme. Giry handled it with the same aplomb as before, spilling water on their lit fuses. 'Brava, Madame, Brava…'

He watched the rest of the performance in relatively brighter spirits, chuckling when Carlotta ripped her dress, and outright shaking with silent laughter at Piangi's pitiful attempts at boarding the makeshift elephant. Christine was doing well, although he had to admit that Meg was certainly outdoing everyone else. She had apparently inherited her mother's talent. Christine, in all truth, although still a great dancer, was a singer through and through. He snorted with disgust however when he noticed the two dancers next to Christine. They were apparently successful at their attempts to attract the attention of the two rich men in front of them. Erik couldn't help but find himself thinking that common prostitutes had more dignity.

When the song was finished, Erik joined Christine and Meg in their idle talk. However, their attention was soon drawn to the scene of battle between Carlotta and the new managers. She was throwing an impressive tantrum and threatening to leave, and of course, the managers learned to grovel at her feet. It was finally decided that she was to "honor" them with a performance of her aria as Elissa that night. General opinion was that she butchered the song, and Erik couldn't help snickering and whispering to Christine and Meg when he saw the cleaning ladies stuff cotton into their ears. However a scream shattered through the auditorium as a large backdrop came crashing down on top of Carlotta. Erik had instinctively pulled Christine and Meg back as it came down. When Carlotta was finally retrieved from under the mess, Lefevre called up to find someone to blame.

Meg looked back at them with amusement dancing in her eyes. "It was probably the Opera Ghost."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Erik added in. "That woman's screeching could wake the dead. No doubt she will be throwing another one of her tantrums."

His prediction came true, although she really did leave this time. This left the new managers in a predicament indeed as Lefevre took leave hastily to catch the next ship to Australia. Being totally adverse to losing money, the managers looked for any alternative besides refunding a full house. Erik felt a pang of pity for M. Reyer, who was obviously suffering a migraine at this point.

"Christine Daae could sing it, messieurs."

Erik could have kissed Mme. Giry at that point. Of course! This was the perfect opportunity for Christine.

"A chorus girl, don't be silly."

Erik smirked. 'He has no idea what she can do.'

"She has been well taught."

"By whom?"

Erik muttered a thank you to Mme. Giry for the compliment as he passed. "I am her teacher."

Messieurs Andre and Firmin both looked at him skeptically, doing a double-take at his mask. "And who are you?"

"I am Erik Liszet, the co-director of music here."

"Well… we'll give her a try."

Erik nodded to Christine as she shyly stepped up to perform. She started of softly but her voice grew in strength as her confidence grew. He, Mme. Giry, and little Giry gave her reassuring nods, while everyone else gaped in amazement. He wasn't surprised since no one else had ever _really_ heard her sing before. Christine was immediately given the lead role, and the rest of the day passed in a daze. Before he knew it, they were once again watching Christine from the side of the stage as she once again sang _Think of Me_. Pride surged through him as she finished the operatic arpeggio at the end of the piece, and the audience rose in a standing ovation as she took her final bow. The stage was literally flooded with flowers. The only sour note in the entire evening was the Viscount. From his standpoint, he had a perfect view of Raoul staring at Christine from his private box. He had seen the recognition in his eyes as she began singing.

 

* * *

 

 

Christine felt her heart thudding at the audience's thundering applause. However, what felt the best was the approval she saw in her surrogate family's eves, especially the man she loved. Her breath was swept away. She suddenly realized that she needed some peace and quiet before facing the crowd that was sure to be waiting outside her dressing room. She knew there was only one place right now where she could get that quiet. Immediately after exiting the stage, she headed towards the chapel.

 

* * *

 

Both Erik and Meg went looking for Christine together after the end of the performance. They had a pretty good idea where she would be and were rewarded when they found her sitting in front of her father's candle. Erik sang to her a gentle "Brava, Brava, Bravissima," and she turned, smiling, to see them coming out of the archway with Erik needing to duck a bit. She stifled a giggle.

"Christine, now, why are you here when everyone is trying to congratulate you upstairs?" Meg questioned.

"I believe, Marguerite, that _that IS_ the reason why she is here." Meg glared at him. "Christine, you were marvelous tonight."

"No…," Meg cut in, "she wasn't... She was _perfect_."

Christine smiled and blushed as she looked at the two people she grew up with. "I just felt a bit overwhelmed with the flowers, the applause, and… the lights, but I'll be fine soon."

"I'm sure you'll be," Erik said as he moved next to her.

"Well, I'll just leave you two alone for now," Meg hinted slyly as she stood up and left.

Christine grinned as she gazed at the candle flame. "Erik, do you remember the first time you brought me here?"

"Of course, I don't believe I'll ever forget that day. I found my soul mate that day."

Christine just continued that small smile. "Do you remember what I asked of you then?"

"Yes." Erik started to sing softly… _I am your angel of music… Come to me angel of music…_

Christine began to sing a song she had made up together with Erik and Meg when they had been younger. It was aptly named _Angel of Music_ , and Erik smiled as he led her back to her dressing room while she softly sang it with him, safeguarding her from her admirers.

"Christine," Erik fidgeted. "Do you want to go… through the mirror tonight?"

"Yes, Erik, I would love to, just to get away from it all."

"Magnificent, I'll get everything ready and come back for you, and oh… this is for you."

With that said Erik seemingly produced a red rose out of midair and gave it to her. It was tied with his signature black ribbon.

Christine laughed with delight as she accepted his flower. It meant more to her than a dozen bouquets of flowers. "I'll be waiting for you."

Erik gave her a quick kiss before going into the mirror, which in reality was a trapdoor.

As she waited, she decided that she would need to change out of the gown, which was beautiful but heavy. As she moved to get up from her vanity table, the door was suddenly opened. Surprised, she gasped as she saw Raoul come in. He had that same boyish and innocent smile on his face. She had to return it. He began reciting from a story that her father use to tell them as children with her finishing. When he gave her a hug though, she began to feel uncomfortable. "Raoul…"

"I've missed you, Christine. You sang beautifully tonight."

"Thank you, Raoul."

"And to celebrate," he continued in the same bright tone, "you must allow me to take you out to supper."

"That is very kind of you Raoul, but it'll have to be another night. I'm already meeting someone tonight."

"Someone else?"

"Yes Raoul, I'm meeting Erik tonight. I'm sorry Raoul, but I must change. I'll see you next time." Christine practically pushed him out of the door before he could say anything else, therefore, avoiding all the awkward questions.

However, Erik who had returned quickly from his preparation had seen the entire thing. Erik sneered at the boy's attempt and failure at drawing Christine out, but he couldn't help being extremely angry. When Christine had finished changing, walking out in her nightgown, he was already waiting besides the mirror. Instead of looking at her, he was staring at the door, as if boring holes into it. He knew who was on the other side eavesdropping, so he began to sing strongly, his voice dripping acid on words that surely described his judgment of the viscount.

_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion… basking in_ your _glory! Ignorant FOOL, this brave, young suitor… sharing in_ my _triumph!_

Christine was a bit shocked to find him waiting there for her, but the shock she felt when hearing his bitter, sarcastic words and fierce tone of voice overrode it. She needed to calm him down, so she sang several lines from _Angel of Music_ again.

When Erik heard Christine's voice, he closed his eyes and let the sound resonate in his head. By the time he reopened them, Christine was standing next to him, studying him with worried eyes. He realized that he must have startled her with his tune. "I'm sorry, Christine. I let my temper get the best of me."

"It is okay, Erik."

"Shall we?" Erik offered her his hand; she accepted it.

Midway down the first passageway, she unexpectedly started singing. _In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name._ It was the _Phantom of the Opera_ , a song they had written together based on the staff's superstitions about the Opera Ghost. In it, Erik sings the phantoms part since it was based off of him. It was a childhood joke that Meg and Christine had thought up, because Erik resembled a phantom with his attire (he liked black and white clothing), his mask, and the way he seems to disappear and show up somewhere else, just like a ghost. It was a slightly bone-chilling song, but it somehow fit the journey downwards. Erik smiled as he joined in. _Sing once again with me… our strange duet; my power over you grows stronger yet._ They sang all the way to the "Phantom's lair" where they finally stopped to take a breath. Christine began to wander around like a small child again, to see what new things Erik had added to his sanctuary. She stopped, when Erik started to play his pipe organ. Entranced by the music, she took a seat next to him to listen.

After remaining like that for about half an hour, Christine asked hesitantly at the end of a piece, "Erik, will you sing for me?"

"Yes, what would you like me to sing?"

"Maybe a lullaby, I should like a lullaby since I'm so tired right now."

Erik smiled and began a song he composed the night after they declared their love for each other two years ago. It was song he played and sung for her and _her_ only. In it he had placed all his love and the promise to give her his world, a palace constructed out of the darkness of night and fitted with its warmth. _Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…_

Christine found herself drifting about the lair with him as if in a dream dance, one whose magic she never wished to wake from. Nearing the end of the song, Erik led her to a curtained alcove that she had never noticed before… When Erik pulled back the curtain, she let out a soft gasp. She saw herself staring back at her. It was a perfect likeness of her and a bit eerie. Then her mind finally registered that the mannequin was wearing _wedding garments_. Suddenly, everything felt too overwhelming, and the darkness swallowed her.

Erik's pulse raced as he brought her closer to the curtain. Anxiety tore at him, although he never outwardly showed it, especially _not_ in his voice. It was time to reveal his secret to her, his greatest desire. He pulled back the curtain and awaited her reaction. He quickly dropped to catch her as she fainted. 'Of course, the shock coupled with her earlier exhaustion was too much for her. I should have thought of that.' He sighed softly and carried her to the swan bed where he gently laid her down. Then he let down the black lace curtain. All he could do now was to wait. The last words of the song faded as he watched her sleep. _Help me make the music of the night…_

 

* * *

 

A familiar tune woke Christine from her slumber; she saw the smiling Persian monkey playing its cymbals and had to smile herself. She was confused by her surroundings at first until she remembered… Had she really seen it, or was it just a dream?

When Erik heard the soft footsteps behind him, he instantly recognized them and identified the owner. Christine slid gracefully next to him on the organ bench. "Erik," she began but paused to gather her thoughts. She had assured herself that it hadn't been a dream, but she still wanted to be certain. "Erik, what did you mean when you showed me… _that_?" She gestured in the direction of the curtain.

"Why, my dear, it means exactly what it appears to mean: I want you to marry me. Will you marry me, Christine? Will you take me as your husband, to love and protect you unto the end of my life?" Following tradition, he had gotten on bended knee and taken her hands gently in her own. He looked up with eyes filled with love and adoration and… hope. It had been such a long time since he had allowed himself the luxury of hoping; it was a soaring feeling that made disappointment hurt so much more.

Christine stared intently into his eyes. She was at a paradox. Her mind was dazed with the situation, but truth and reality had never been clearer for her. Her heart had never been clearer. Trembling, she freed one of her hands and removed the mask. Then before he could move or say anything, she leant down and captured his lips in a searing kiss. She pulled away slowly, reluctantly. "Yes… my answer is yes."

Tears actually formed in Erik's eyes the moment she answered although he wouldn't let them fall. He slipped a simple gold band onto Christine's hand. "I-it was my mother's wedding ring." He was just barely coherent, still shocked with the entire occasion.

"Oh, Erik, I love it." Christine studied the ring. Although simple and well-worn, it carried a beauty and elegance of its own. It was the perfect symbol for their love.

Erik suddenly felt a momentous joy sweeping through him as if he had just realized that he was to be married to Christine, and in accordance to his emotions, he let out a laugh, picked her up, and spun her around. When he finally set her down again, he whispered into her ear, "I love you so much, Christine Daae."

"I love you too, Erik Liszet."

They spent a few more minutes in a comfortable silence together before Erik sighed and replaced the mask. "We need to return before those two new fools running MY opera house misses us."

"Oh Erik! Do you call everyone fools?" Christine managed to gasp out in between her laughter. "Also, when, my darling, did the Opera Populaire come under YOUR ownership?"

Erik raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I have a single answer to both questions. It seems that every inhabitant of this opera house already come to me with their problems large or small, lacking the sense to deal with it themselves, regardless of whether I care at all. The only people who seem to carry competent heads on their shoulders are I, Mme. Giry, M. Reyer, and occasionally, you and Meg. However, I still cannot safely judge the new managers, although there seems to be little hope for them." All of this, he said in a dry "I-could-care-less" drawl, but his eyes gave him away as they sparkled in amusement.

Playing along, Christine huffed out a "well…" and shook her head in mock exasperation, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh Christine," Erik said with a pleading smile. "Let's not get in a fuss over the incompetence of others although it's the truth. We should be happy." With that said, he led her back into the daylight and the world.


	5. Surprises, Suprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner and re-acquaintance (but very little otherwise).

The first and only people Erik and Christine announced their engagement to was, of course, the Girys. Mme. Giry's only reaction was a mixture of a knowing look, an enigmatic smile, and words of congratulation, well-wishes, and advice. Meg, meanwhile, rolled her eyes while grinning brightly as well, and muttered, "It took you two long enough," before embracing them. "So, when is the wedding?"

Both Erik and Christine were surprised that both Girys had seemingly seen their engagement coming. "Were we really that obvious?" Both of the Girys smiled tragically and nodded.

"People were actually beginning to place bets on when it would occur," a helpful Meg piped in.

She burst out laughing at the look on their faces.

Afterwards, Erik and Christine reached a mutual agreement to not publicly announce their engagement although they would make no effort to hide it even though they did ask the Girys not to tell anyone else. This was horrible for Meg Giry who had been bursting with excitement to tell _everyone_ (as well as to collect money on a few of the bets she made.) Christine continued to wear the ring on her finger. No one would notice in a busy opera house. No one, at least, except for an insightful M. Reyer that kept it to himself.

One week after the gala night and the performance of _Hannibal_ , Carlotta returned, worried about her position as the leading soprano. No one was surprised, because everyone had heard rumors of her supposed reaction after hearing of the success of Christine's performance. Erik, meanwhile, closed his eyes, shook his head, and let out an over-exaggerated sigh. Slowly and silently, he counted to ten as he watched the new managers bribe her back into being _Prima Donna_. As rehearsals for the next production _Il Muto_ progressed over the following two months. Tensions were strung high. During one afternoon, following morning rehearsals, Erik was talking with Christine as they had lunch. They talked about everything, including Carlotta's attitude. "I wonder if sabotage will work…"

Christine immediately responded in a warning tone, "Erik, don't even try it…" Erik made no effort to respond, leaving Christine to stare at him warily.

The following day, everyone groaned when they learned that practice was doubled since the performance was only four days away. Christine, in particular, didn't mind the extra rehearsals, but couldn't stand the idea with dealing with Carlotta. The diva had especially been targeting Christine since she took her spot that night. Her dislike now showed clearly. She perceived Christine as a threat to her comfortable career and a disruption in her pampered lifestyle. The managers had made Christine Carlotta's understudy for all future performances as well as gave her several larger roles, barely satisfying some of the public outcry. Carlotta may still have been a big-name star, but Christine had become an overnight hit. It was during one such rehearsal that Carlotta used Christine as a scapegoat for her bad mood. The actor next to Christine had accidentally trodden on the hem of Carlotta's costume. She immediately turned, outraged, and started yelling insults at who she thought was the guilty party, namely Christine.

Erik felt a growl rumble in his throat as he started towards the conflict on center stage. However, he was stopped when Mme. Giry placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. He shook off the hand, but he remained standing still, despite the fact that Carlotta was severely testing his self-control.

When Carlotta had finally ended her tirade, flushed and out of breath, Christine was speechless, but Erik was not. He cut into the momentary silence with a voice that could have burned Carlotta if possible. "You ought to know better than to insult Christine as you just did, Senora, especially since it was M. Toricelli who had accidentally stepped on your hem. Christine did _not_ deserve that verbal abuse, and it would do very well to apologize."

Carlotta's only response to his reprimand was a sarcastic "Of course…" before casting a disdaining glance at the blushing Christine. Unfortunately, Carlotta's brief glance allowed her to catch sight of the simple ring on Christine's hand, and she instantly smirked. "Who gave you THAT outrageous little trinket? Who would be silly enough to give it to _you_?"

Christine bristled up and was about to respond. However, she stopped when she saw that Erik's eyes were blazing dangerously with barely controlled rage. "Madame, I do think that that is enough irrelevant comments that you've made today. We are here to rehearse, and you _shall_ apologize to her afterwards." Carlotta, who also noticed his anger, decided to back down. She was afraid of him, even though she tried to convince herself otherwise. Yes, everyone was a bit intimidated by Erik Liszet, and who wouldn't. And though the Girys and Christine knew better, they understood the others fear of him. It lurked in his very aura at times.

Now, everyone also knew of their engagement, thanks to "La Carlotta" since it was quite apparent as to who had given Christine that ring, even if she had never answered. The more daring members of the opera house took to interrogating Erik and Christine all day. That night, an exhausted Erik exclaimed vehemently to Christine, "I feel like strangling that woman!" Christine decided it was best not to respond, giving him a slight kiss to mitigate him somewhat before returning to her room. By the next morning however, new gossip replaced what was now "old news," as was the norm in an opera house.

 

* * *

 

The performance that night had gone very well except for the fact that Carlotta's voice had broken twice that night in mid-song. It was a fear that plagued every singer, but it still happened at times. Christine, who played a silent role that night much to Erik's annoyance, retired quickly to her dressing room afterwards to escape from the hysterical wails of a mortified Carlotta. Not long after she changed, a knock came on the door, and with her assent, the Viscount entered. He congratulated her on a job well done and invited her to dinner.

"Yes, Raoul, I'll come, but only if Erik is allowed to come as well."

"Erik?" Raoul suddenly recalled their conversation from that first night. 'That was the man she was meeting.' He saw a shadow detach itself from a corner of the room, and as the silhouette approached the circle of light cast by nearby candles, it revealed a man in evening wear and a mask. Raoul couldn't help doing a double-take at the mask.

"Viscount," Erik greeted with a polite nod of the head. Raoul hesitated before returning the acknowledgement as propriety demanded.

In a lowered voice, Raoul enquired to Christine, "Is it really necessary to… bring him along?"

Christine was surprised. "Raoul, have you not heard? Erik is my fiancé; we're engaged!"

Raoul spluttered, "Engaged!" Then, quickly regaining some semblance of his composure, he answered in a somewhat choked voice, "Well then… I'd be honored if M. Liszet would join us."

"Please, Viscount, just Erik would do fine." Although he had maintained a neutral expression throughout he entire encounter, Erik was inwardly enjoying the Viscount's squirming. He was quite aware that the young man was smitten with his love ever since rediscovering her on that gala night.

"Then Erik, please call me Raoul."

 

* * *

 

The carriage ride to the restaurant through the night streets of Paris was spent in an awkward silence broken only twice. Once when Christine had ventured to make a comment about the weather and a second time when the driver called back into the carriage to inform its occupants that they were arriving close to their destination, one of the best restaurants in Paris.

Dinner was also relatively quiet although there were snippets of conversation. Raoul enquired about their relationship, curiosity getting the better of him, although it was not exactly the best of manners for a gentleman to show. When Erik rose to speak with an acquaintance that happened to be there that night, Raoul immediately asked, "Christine, are you sure this is what you want? I mean, have you really chosen Erik? Isn't he a bit old for you? What if he is taking advantage of you? What is he hiding from you behind that mask?"

Christine was shocked. "Raoul, what are you saying? That…"

Raoul cut her off before she could finish with three words. "I love you."

This struck Christine dumb as she stared uncomprehendingly at Raoul. "You l-love me?" she repeated in a tiny voice as she saw his vibrant blue eyes beg her earnestly to believe him. "Oh, Raoul, this cannot be! I… I love Erik, and I believe fully in my decision to marry him. He truly loves me too. Raoul, you'll always be the boy who rescued my scarf, and I'll always care for you as a good friend, but that is all we can ever be… friends." At his downcast expression, she patted him gently on the hand and gave him a soft reassuring smile. "Don't worry Raoul, you are a good man, and I'm sure that you'll one day find a person who loves you as much as you will love her. It will be someone you can share a life with."

"Merci, Christine."

"Of course, Raoul."

Erik, meanwhile, had been speaking with Lorenzo, one of his former masters from when he had traveled throughout Europe, learning. However, his keen hearing had allowed him to hear every word of the pair's conversation. A small smile had unconsciously crept onto his face after it ended, and Lorenzo noticed. "What is that smile for now? Have you even been paying attention to a single work I said, Erik?"

This snapped Erik out of his own thoughts and back to the present. "Guilty as charged, Lorenzo and I apologize," he responded smoothly, "but I would like to introduce you to someone, if you would allow me a moment?"

"Of course."

Erik went back to his table and brought Christine. "Lorenzo, this is my fiancée, Christine. Christine, this is Lorenzo. He was, and still is, a famous tailor in Venice. I was his apprentice for about three weeks.

"And a trying three weeks those were," Lorenzo entered gaily. "He was a wonderful student, but he sometimes had his head in the clouds, a few too many times for me. To give him credit, he was a quick learner though, and I soon taught him almost everything I knew by the end of those three weeks, and learned even more from him."

They continued on a few minor topics, inviting Raoul to join them midway through (at Christine's urging), until it was so late that they all went home. After the usual exchange of pleasantries and farewells, Erik and Christine were dropped off in front of the Opera Populaire as Raoul's carriage turned to take him home.

Christine and Erik walked in a comfortable silence back to her room when Christine cut in, "Erik, I knew you heard our conversation."

Erik just nodded but decided to add, "I'm fine as long as the Viscount does keep his distance."

"Erik… you really have nothing to worry about. I truly meant what I said. I love YOU, and I made sure Raoul understood that as well. He is just a good friend."

"Of course, I trust you Christine, but it doesn't necessarily mean I have to _like_ him, does it? I'll try to tolerate him though," he quickly supplied when he saw her give him a look. They once more lapsed into a silent understanding before Erik gave Christine a good night kiss. "At least _I_ thought this evening went pretty well. There wasn't any bloodshed involved." Christine gave him a playful slap on the arm before turning to go to bed.

As Erik went back to his own room, he pondered about that evening, his life, and of course, Christine. He knew how much Christine meant to him. He was prepared to die for her. She was one of the few who had truly melted the coldness that resided in his heart. Coldness he had been oh so willing to isolate himself in all those years ago if it meant that he would never have to feel anything, any pain or disappointment. That night, before sleep came, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to God for leading him to the Opera Populaire.


	6. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the chapter title implies.

Following that informative evening, a relative quiet fell as three months passed with little commotion or excitement. There was the usual run of practices and show. Erik and Christine found themselves busy yet relaxed. Everyone was enjoying the pace at which life was now striding, and as usual though, nothing ran perfectly.

Snow drifts covered Paris from the consistent snow fall following the eve which _Il Muto_ was first performed. This did nothing to inhibit the faithful opera _attendees_ however. Erik found the atmosphere perfectly charming and deciding to be unreasonably romantic one night, took Christine out for a carriage ride on a moonlit evening. It was a surprise for her to enjoy herself for that night, a little vacation per se.

So it was planned for that night, after the performance, that he went to her dressing room. "Christine, dress warmly, put on your wool cloak, and close your eyes. I have a surprise for you." Christine did as he asked, wondering what on earth he was planning. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was also dressed immaculately in his evening attire and cloak. She voiced an indignant protest when he brought out a simple black blindfold.

"Erik, why would you need that? I already closed my eyes."

"You were peeking, and I knew that because you saw the blindfold. Now no more protesting, I want it to be a surprise. Trust me." Christine blushed. After Erik tied the blindfold securely, he took her by the hands and guided her outside where an open carriage was waiting. Picking her up without warning, he placed her inside before getting in himself and signaling the hired coachman to drive on. When they finally reached the nearby park, one that had survived the emperor's rampage at least, he untied the blindfold.

Christine let out a gasp, her eyes sparkling, matching the snow and stars in the heavens. "I thought that you may like to see Paris at its best tonight." There was a flush of color on her cheeks in bright contrast to her pale skin. In the moonlight, Erik saw her truly as an angel. _My angel of salvation…_ He let a small smile cover his face when he saw the childish wonder and joy placed on hers.

"Oh Erik! I love it." She gave him a wide grin. "Thank you."

Erik felt the heat rise in his cheeks and quickly turned away to hide it, pretending to be admiring the scenery, even though it was only partially a pretense. "Yes, it is very beautiful, although I believe that I enjoy my company even more." There was a pause where the only sound was that of the horses' hooves. "Added onto that joy, my dear, is my belief that you need a brief rest. You were wonderful as _Prima Donna_ for the past three weeks."

Christine blushed. "Well, it couldn't be helped given Carlotta's condition."

Carlotta had lost her voice from an infection of the throat. According to the physician, she would soon recover with a few weeks rest, and so Christine took over her roles for those weeks' performances, being her understudy as well as a high caliber singer. She had been a great success and brought in a large amount of profits, to the joy of the managers.

Erik grimaced at the thought of that woman returning. "It was a pity that her _condition_ wasn't permanent."

Christine smothered her giggles. Yes, they have been busy, but that was normal. Everyone was preparing and excited about the up and coming _Bal Masque_. It was one of the greatest festivities of the year. Erik and Christine had also been busy planning for their wedding since they had set the date for May eighteenth. It was to be a small wedding at the nearby cathedral. She smiled when she remembered the battle she had to fight with Erik when it came to the guest list. There were the Girys, of course, M. Reyer, Raoul, the managers, and… The thought of the last two guests suddenly make her laugh, earning her a questioning glance from Erik. The managers had been a formality, and Raoul… well Raoul ended in a stalemate between each of their stubbornness. This was eventually resolved by an amused Mme. Giry who pointed out to Erik that to invite the patron of the Opera Populaire would only be proper. This would have been enough reason, even if Raoul wasn't his future wife's close friend.

"I was just wondering about our guest list and the last two people on it. Who would have known…" There was Derrick, a baritone and dancer who has lately become _very_ close to Meg. They were certainly a couple now after all those nights they spent wandering together, doing who knows what. Then, there was Charlotte Luceaux. She was Raoul's fiancée. They had met one day at a party placed by Count Philippe de Chagny and had fallen in love. They were very much alike in status, looks, attitudes, and personalities. It had been a quick engagement, but the couple remained above the judgment of society. Christine had easily befriended Charlotte. She was a gentle young woman, beautiful, and intelligent. She also had a warm heart and loved the opera. Erik had liked her even though no one rose above Christine in his eyes. He admired her for her kindness and good sense. She would make Raoul a good wife. Rumor was that their wedding was to be in March.

"I think life is just full of surprises, Christine. Sometimes, there are many twists and turns that just pass by us."

"Then what am I in your road of life?"

"You are my angel and muse that dropped from the heavens like a falling star to light my way."

"You are _my_ angel Erik, but you are starting to worry me. It is when you wax poetic that I start to wonder if you feel alright."

"I assure you my dear that I am perfectly fine. I'm sure my cynical vein will return to me soon enough."

"I love you, Erik. Please promise that you will never leave me."

"I give you my word. I love you, Christine, and our souls are inseparably joined."

A serene atmosphere settled on both of them. Christine let out a peaceful sigh as Erik enveloped her in his arms. Falling entirely into his embrace, she let her head lie on his shoulder and closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face. "Sometimes, my only regret in living at the opera house is the chance to be outside. It has been such a long time since I've had an opportunity to go stargazing. My father use to do it very often with me by the sea. Sometimes, we would even sleep outside."

Erik looked down at the heavenly being in his arms. He knew that somewhere above, his mother was watching. He thanked her for guiding him to his angel, just as Christine thanked her father for giving her the Angel of Music. For that one night, both of them rode in this dream world where all the troubles of reality were nonexistent. This was the one perfect night as the full moon and stars smiled down at the two no longer lost souls riding through a pristine and perfect world that light and darkness had achieved the perfect balance in.


	7. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Masquerade Ball redone.

The entire building was filled with life and activity as everyone prepared for the "Bal Masque" that was to be held tomorrow night, heralding in a new year. It was an annual celebration and the most looked forward to event of the year. Although every single pair of hands, feet, eyes, and etc. was to be used in preparation, only those performing the choreography, invited, or the most important of the theatre workers would be celebrating with the Parisian aristocracy in the entrance hall. Everyone else would be enjoying themselves in the bowels of the opera house, having a drunken fest hidden from public eyes.

The cleaning staff was busy, well, cleaning and polishing everything single item until it shone with pride. The sculptors and designers and seamstresses were also busy creating costumes and masks, putting on the finishing touches. Others were busy making fans to be used in the staircase performance. The performers were rehearsing under Mme. Giry's watchful eyes, and her strict reprimands were a deterrent for anyone who was distracted by the other ongoing activities. Erik was tuning and practicing with the orchestra as M. Reyer made sure that everything was visible from his standpoint in the balcony above the main staircase and ascertained the positive that he was visible to everyone else. It was vital that he could be seen since he would be conducting from there. The instrumentalists would be relying on him to keep on time, while the vocalists and dancers would be relying on the music provided by the musicians. Many of the little ballet rats couldn't help but stand there staring until they were shooed back to practice as well by an excited Meg Giry. She was supervising the younger ballet classes while her mother was occupied by rehearsals. Christine was sent on errands all around, usually helping Meg with the restless girls. The managers, meanwhile, were busy getting in everyone's way by trying to interfere in business that they had no business in.

Work continued on in this manner until long after dusk. Meg and Christine limped together slowly back to their bedroom late that evening after seeing all the younger ballet rats back to their dormitories from which they had graduated from after full-time performing. Their feet were sore from holding their weight, although it wasn't much, all day.

Meg couldn't help grumbling, "I'd never thought that I would miss those dormitories since we left, but I never realized how long the hallway is from there to our room. I think I need a soft bed right this moment," as she stopped to rub her sore feet.

Christine laughed, "I would heartily agree except that we at least have some privacy now, although I can never be sure with you as a roommate."

Meg placed on a hurt look, "I meddle only because I care." She gave another agonizing groan.

"You will stop groaning once we start showing each other our costumes and start talking about the masquerade tomorrow."

Christine was right as they spent most of the night discussing the fore mentioned topic. Meg was going to attend as Mme. Giry's daughter, and she had invited Derrick. Christine was to accompany Erik that night. They fell asleep that eve thoroughly exhausted yet comfortably satisfied.

 

* * *

 

_The next evening…_

"Hurry, Christine! People are already starting to arrive!" Meg was busy putting on her white mask. She was to be an angel that night, and the dress she wore was very agreeable to Derrick although not to the taste of Mme. Giry.

Christine was hurriedly pulling on a light pink gown decorated with pink roses on above her undergarments and corset. It was a gift from Erik. Along with the dress, he had given her a white silk mask embroidered with red, pink, and white roses. It was meant to be held up with a thin green stick, imitating a flower stem. It was a beautiful and expensive outfit, leaving it to Christine's imagination as to how he had obtained it. Actually, she wouldn't have been all that surprised if he had made it. When Christine and Meg met their partners, ready to descend down the grand staircase, she asked him. Erik's answer had been surprising, when he had finally recovered from being struck dumb at the sight of her.

"You are half correct, my dear. I had made the mask, though not the dress and I don't regret any of it. You look like a goddess, Christine."

She blushed, and unable to respond, she remained silent. She knew her presence was a comfort to him. He was as tense and stiff as a statue. He was not comfortable in public situations, and this was no different. However, she wanted him to relax and enjoy himself. "Erik, calm down," and to bring the effect of her words, she placed a firm kiss on his lips while still hidden from public view.

Erik smiled down at her, "Thank you." Then they turned to face forward again. In front of them was Meg with Derrick, and then it was Mme. Giry, and in the front were Carlotta and Piangi. They were walking down together with the managers and their partners. When they caught sight of the managers as a rooster and a ram, Erik couldn't help but comment, "How… fitting for them." Christine and Meg had to smother their giggles while Derrick chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

From the moment they entered the ballroom, the concept of time disappeared. The first of several dances flew by. Christine saw Erik visibly relax and their attention was focused mainly upon each other. Christine also found out that Erik was an amazing dancer. "Is there anything that you cannot do besides flying?"

"Actually, I am an avid believer that mankind will one day find a way to fly. Besides that, no, nothing comes to mind at the moment. We are however, garnering a lot of attention it seems, and I cannot imagine that it is only me who is responsible. _You_ dance extremely well my dear."

Christine had noticed the stares, but she did not believe it to be entirely because of their dancing. Most of society had never seen Erik before and was most likely wondering who he was. He certainly stood out when it came to physical appearance, and he exuded an atmosphere of mystery. (Meanwhile, Carlotta scowled at them whenever they were near her.) Christine's curiosity was piqued by his dress attire as well. He was wearing forming evening dress, a black cloak, and a white mask that covered the entire top half of his face down to right below his nose. "Erik, what are you dressed as?"

Erik smiled, "I'm the Phantom of the Opera, of course." His piercing blue-green eyes never left her face as he whispered, "And I am here to steal away my bride-to-be." Her unspoken question was answered next. "Patience, darling, you'll have to wait and see."

They only stopped dancing twice in order to catch their breath. They conversed with Meg and Derrick as well as Raoul and Charlotte, who had arrived too.

Their last dance of that evening was marked by Erik's kiss. Smiles were pasted on the couple's faces, denying everyone else's claim of existence in their world that night. They joined everyone in watching the performance on the staircase. It was indeed a sight to marvel about. However, as everyone else continued on with the merriment afterwards, Erik led Christine away. They stopped to say goodnight with friends and acquaintances, and Erik gave Madame his compliments for a job well done. They had almost left the crowd behind when they were intercepted by the managers.

"A moment please, Erik," M. Firmin requested.

Erik eyes flared up giving him a dangerous look. He was not happy at being interrupted. He managed a strained assent and bow of the head.

"We have decided to perform your opera in respect to staff opinions," explained M. Andre. In truth, they had been forcefully coerced by Mme. Giry and M. Reyer.

"Do you mean _Don Juan Triumphant_?"

"Yes."

Erik smirked and 'graciously' thanked the managers. He mouthed a "later" to Christine when he saw her curious glance. "I hope that I can be given full authority of managing, casting, and organizing my own work?"

"Yes, of course, full authority," M. Firmin mumbled, "we shall go now if you'll excuse us. Come, Andre, or we'll be late for our… appointments." With that, they quickly walked away.

Christine had to cover a smile since it was quite apparent that the two managers were nervous and eager to get away. Erik had that effect on people, and the managers had certainly forgotten who was in charge in his vicinity… or it may have been their drinks.

Erik turned backed to Christine, giving her a real grin. She could see the happiness in his eyes. "They're going to perform _Don Juan Triumphant_." He took both of her hands in his own. "It is an opera I wrote, and they're going to use it. I had given it to them a month ago, wondering if they would agree to use it, and they are." He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "It's incredible, a dream come true, and I haven't had many of those besides you agreeing to marry me."

"It's wonderful Erik!"

"I'm also planning on having you play the lead, Aminta. We'll have tryouts of course, to make it fair, but I wrote that part with you in mind. You're also the best singer here so I have no worries."

"Erik, I'd be honored to be in it. I'd really only sung for you and papa before you. I also hope that you know that Carlotta will throw a cow when she hears of this though."

Erik smirked. "As far as I am concerned, she is a cow, or better yet, a toad. I'm not worried about her in the least, although I'm still not sure as to who will play the male lead, but come. I wasn't dragging you away to discuss this." He led her into the backrooms, avoiding the other revelers who were getting quite rowdy and vulgar with their over dosage of spirits. It reminded her of a not-to-pleasant experience she had before, but Erik had placed a protective arm around her. He led her up to the opera house roof.

As they stepped out into the cold, Christine's eyes were once again met with an amazing view of the city. She had seen it before, but it always swept her breath away to see itagain. It had a similar effect on Erik. He led her to the Pegasus statue in the corner and lifted her up to her seat, placing himself behind her. "I thought some fresh air would do some good, although there is a chill." He wrapped his cloak around her, and she leaned against him. "I wanted to give you something."

"Why?"

"I can't give you something just because I love you and your smiles?"

"No, I'm just curious as to the reason."

"Well… that is the reason." With that, he handed her a small pouch. "Open it."

Christine gasped when she took out a medium sized crystal cut into a peculiar shape. "Erik, what is it?"

"I wanted to show you something." He took out a candle and lit it. Then, taking her hand in his, he guided the crystal in front of the flame and stars of different colors appeared. She could even see the constellations, same as those in the heavens above them now. "Do you like it, Christine?"

"Erik, I love it." Tears steadily dripped down Christine's face as she watched the stars.

Erik gave her a soft kiss. "I remembered what you said that night in the carriage. You said that your only regret in living at the opera house was the lack of time you get to spend stargazing, so I decided to bring some of the stars to you."

She turned her gaze towards Erik, and in the darkness, his eyes were the most beautiful stars in heaven to her. She whispered softly, "Thank you, Erik." She settled into his arms and returned her gaze to the crystal.


	8. A Journey, A Triumph, and An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only an Epilogue left, but this was essentially the grand finale. As amateurish as this fic attempt was, I hope anyone who has read it, enjoyed it! Thank you for your patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should address something that just recently popped into my mind to explain. The lack of mention to Erik's mask has go with the theme that he has experienced the love of his mother and Christine and that sustains him through most of humanity's derisiveness, not that many at the opera house for the people have been given a fair chance to work with him as well as the fact that he has been at that opera house for the past ten years, and I'm sure new people are given sufficient warning...

Erik could feel the headache building up in his head. Rehearsals for _Don Juan Triumphant_ was now at full pace and _everything_ that could go wrong was going wrong. The first showing was to begin on the first of April and continue for two weeks afterwards, but he wasn't sure if they would survive until then. There was only one month left. So far, he had had to have an entiregroup of costumes remade, build half the stage set himself, argue with Madame Giry about the choreography, fight away interfering managers, and fit 'La Carlotta' into a minor role. The latter was made almost impossible due to the size of her ego. Worst was the utter failure Erik had faced in acquiring a proper Don Juan to go along with Christine's Aminta. As his mind focused on Christine, he felt the first strands of calmness since that morning. She was his lifeline at this point, keeping him from drowning in this mess… He had one month, one more month to get everything perfect, or as close to perfection as possible.

Christine could see Erik sitting in the first row of seats rubbing his head. He picked up a steaming cup next to him and gulped down the contents with a grimace. Approaching from the side, she placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Was that one of your own concoctions for headaches?"

"Yes, I've been taking three cups of it everyday, but the taste never gets any better."

"Erik, you've been working yourself too hard. You should take a break." She began massaging his temples.

"I can't. The premiere is in one month. What if it isn't ready by then, Christine?"

"Don't worry yourself so much. You _know_ that it will be perfect by then even if you have to force us to go without sleep as well. The dancers are starting to maneuver themselves correctly, the orchestra is already improving, and I'll practice night and day if I have to." Christine finished her last statement with a tone of deadly determination.

Erik sighed and took her hands in his, stopping their motions. He gently pulled her down into his lap. "You don't have to, my dear. You are already perfect." He cut her off before she could speak, "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't the truth Christine, and you're right, things _are_ pulling together, slowly, but surely. My main worry however is what we shall do about Don Juan."

Christine leaned back into Erik. "Erik, why don't you play the part? You already know it, and it would be ideal." She turned to stare him in the eye. "You're the only one who can be Don Juan, and the truth is, I'll feel a lot more comfortable with you than anyone else."

Erik opened his mouth but found that he had nothing to say. He could find no argument against what she had just said. Why couldn't he be Don Juan? The character naturally wore a mask as well, solving that problem. He did know the entire part perfectly since it was his composition. A small smile started to appear on his lips, and it was returned by Christine. "I think that we have a Don Juan. However, I hope you won't mind if we keep this between us for now. It'll be a surprise."

Christine giggled and placed a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, about that vacation… you need at least a week off to prove that the entire place would not fall down without you."

"Where would you like to go?"

Christine grew somber as her eyes turned away to stare at nothing.

"Christine?"

"Erik, how would you feel if we were to spend some time in Perros?"

 

* * *

 

 

Erik stepped cautiously into the cemetery behind Christine who was dressed in the black garb of mourning. Her tiny hands held a bouquet of wildflowers. They had just arrived that morning and had booked rooms in the village inn before coming here. Erik stared at the gray monuments around him and couldn't help but feel a chill in the air despite the fact that it was a perfectly sunny spring day, even if it was a bit foggy. His attention was drawn back to Christine as he heard her mutter a bit of a story she had told him when he had first arrived at the opera house. Then she started to sing, her ethereal voice drawing him in despite the melancholy that tinged it. It gave the music an unmistakable beauty usually hidden in the deepest depths of the soul. The words seem to flow around him… _Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near; sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here…_

He wished with all his heart that he could comfort his angel now as he saw the tears fall silently down her face. He mutely watched as she kneeled down in front of her father's mausoleum and lay the flowers down on the steps. He didn't know what to do but he couldn't bear to leave her to wallow in her anguish, so he sang… _Wandering child so lost… so helpless… yearning for some guidance. Have you forgotten your Angel? Too long you've wandered alone here, far from my comfort and warmth… Don't resist… let the soul obey!_ And she was there; once again Christine was in his arms, crying into his shirt. He was her pillar of strength right now, and he would willingly walk to the ends of every world for her.

As Christine recovered, she remembered her purpose for coming here. She slowly pulled away from Erik and turned to face her father's tomb once again. "Father, I've just come to tell you that I'm marrying a good man. I love you, and I love him as well." Turning back to Erik, she explained, "I wanted to tell my father, and I also wanted to say goodbye as well… this is the last time I'll return with the name Christine Daae…"

"It is okay Christine; I understand." He pulled her into his embrace. "I understand…"

They walked hand in hand back to the horse that they rode on together, borrowed from the inn's stables.

 

* * *

 

That night, it was quiet as they sat together in front of the fire in the common room that was very alive in comparison. "Christine, would you mind if we made one more stop before returning home?"

"No, of course not, Erik. Where do you want to go?"

"I want you to meet someone."

They once more lapsed into a silent understanding. Christine had a feeling she knew where he was planning to return to.

The morning two days before returning to Paris found them in Erik's hometown Rienne. Erik led the horse to the cathedral and tethered it on a fence post. Then, he brought her through a little gate at the side that led into the burial grounds. He guided her to a small tombstone where he kneeled down to clear away some of the weeds. Christine instantly recognized the name on the tombstone.

"Mother… it has been a long time since we have last seen each other, ten years… but I have not forgotten. I'm going to be marrying an angel soon, and I know you're still watching so you probably already realize this. I've found love, mother, in a way I never thought I would except in you…" Erik placed a single white rose on the grave, watered by a single drop of water.

"Erik…"

He stood and took her offered hand, and once more, they walked together out of a cemetery hand in hand. Christine turned around once. 'Madeleine, you must have been an amazing woman… to have raised such an amazing son, and I thank you.'

 

* * *

 

 

Erik was glad for the vacation for when he returned, everything became less overwhelming. The costumes were finally all prepared, and Mme. Giry and M. Reyer had worked with everyone to the point where _Don Juan Triumphant_ was passable, even in his eyes. Of course, there was the problem of rehearsing without the two main stars, one of which was still unknown. There was also still one scene that Erik had to work on completely however. Don Juan was to fence with Passarino in the moment of his betrayal. However, the person playing Passarino had no clue how to fence and also lacked a proper fencing partner. Therefore, Erik took it upon himself to take the role of teacher as well as a practice partner. (He was to be his adversary anyway in the actual production.) Erik also assured everyone else that he had found a Don Juan, although this mysterious actor would not be rehearsing with everyone else.

It was on one particularly harsh fencing session that Erik finally lost his temper. "No, Pierre! You aren't getting the footwork correctly. We have gone over that movement several times already."

"Monsieur, perhaps if I see what it is we're supposed to be doing on stage, I'll understand."

Erik agreed that allowing him to see it would help, but how?

"Erik, why don't you let me help?" It was Raoul. "I was watching, and I think I get the general idea. Plus, I've been trained with a sword since I was five."

Erik smirked, "A wonderful suggestion, Viscount, but I haven't planned out the entire scene yet. Would you agree to actually duel me in order to offer an example to Pierre?"

Raoul smiled, "Of course."

Pierre sat down next to Christine to watch. Christine had been talking to Charlotte and couldn't help muttering to her, "Uh-oh, here comes trouble. I hope they agree on a draw, or else, we'll have our hands full."

Erik and Raoul drew their swords into a salute and bowed to each other; then it started. Raoul was surprised at Erik's apparent ability, while Erik noted that Raoul was indeed well-trained. As each attack succeeded the next, it became increasingly quicker as well as more powerful. In spite of the fact that they were quite evenly matched when it came to skill, Erik had some advantages in agility and size. To him, the footwork was easy and graceful, as in a dance, and he knew how to carry the advantage of his height. Before a victor could be found however, both men were stopped in their tracks when both Christine and Charlotte cried out. Erik and Raoul rushed over to them after sheathing their swords. A worried Erik asked, "What's wrong?"

Both Christine and Charlotte glanced at each other and started laughing. They quickly apologized when they saw the incredulous stares. "We're sorry, but it was just that we were planning on how to get you to stop your duel when we saw a spider climbing up our skirts and screamed."

"Oh…"

Erik quickly recovered from the embarrassment and turned to Pierre. "I believe that you've seen enough."

A slightly awed Pierre quickly nodded.

 

* * *

 

_April first…_

Tonight was it, the opening night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. Erik had convinced himself that no matter what the reaction was, the past few months had been worth reaching this moment. Erik was already in costume and hiding backstage. He had given the entire cast some last minute encouragement before prepping himself for the task at hand… It was a full house, and he was performing for the first time in front of an audience. The only thing steadying him at this moment was Christine's encouragement. Tonight would seal his fate. He could hear the orchestra starting the overture, and he held his breath as the chorus entered. After this, it was his entrance… _Passarino, faithful friend…_

He had done it! Now, he had only to wait for his duet with Christine. They would reach _Past the Point of No Return_ and never look back.

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone working at the opera house had been shocked when it was Erik who had stepped onto the stage. However, they along with the audience had been swept away into ecstasy at the first sound of his voice, but it was only a prelude to what was to come. The ultimate climax was reached when he had taken the stage again to start his song with Christine. Their eyes burned into one another with an even greater intensity than the pseudo flames which surrounded them. Emotions and passion flooded the stage and the entire chamber. It was tangible to every single person who was listening. A force bound the two members on stage that seemed overpowering to everyone else. Several people even stopped breathing without realizing it while tears found their way down the faces of others. Drowning minds tried unsuccessfully to wholly comprehend the lyrics pouring onto them. Their voices melded perfectly together, forming a sound meant only for heaven or hades, no one was sure. The performance continued with a silent audience too awed to speak. Then at the conclusion, the room literally exploded in a flood of applause. The standing ovation lasted for a full twenty minutes and continued as everybody took their final bow. Erik and Christine took theirs together and were swept away by the sound and flowers. Erik was especially overwhelmed. His work had been a success… more than he could have ever imagined and in the shining lights he thought he saw the faint form of a beautiful woman smiling back at him. Beneath the applause, he heard a soft whisper… _"You have done well, my son."_

When they were finally off stage, Erik and Christine were once again swept in a whirlwind of congratulations and praise. The managers were especially happy with them. "We're already booked for a full house tomorrow night!"

Erik managed to get through the crowd with Christine into her dressing room and locked the door behind him. Christine's eyes were shining brightly back at him. "Well, I think it went quite well, Erik."

"Yes, very well." He gave her his signature red rose and captured her lips with his. "Very, _very_ well… I love you, Christine, and I don't know what I'll ever do without you." His eyes were suspiciously over-bright.

"Well, let's hope that you'll never have to find out."

 

* * *

 

_May eighteenth…_

Christine found that her hands were shaking as the priest read their vows. She was marrying Erik, and soon her name would Christine Liszet. She would no longer be mademoiselle but madam. There were going to be so many changes, but they all seem quite agreeable to her that she did not mind.

Erik was restless as he listened to the vows being read, and he felt a tinge of annoyance. He had already made every single one of those vows the moment he met Christine Daae. He had made those vows as an elder brother, and he had made those vows once again the moment he fell in love with her not long after. He loved Christine, and nothing will ever change that simple fact. Their love was eternal, now and forever.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime; let me lead you from your solitude…_

"I do."


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue was meant to pay tribute to the end scene of the movie (I think...), but of note: I wrote the poem/song in this chapter, and I believe that it is totally undeserving of being called Erik's because I beleve that he is a genius as well as all his works, and of course, I'm not. (Present note, it really is a VERY BAD poem. *cringing so badly right now*)

No regrets as we look towards the future for we hold the brightest treasure in our arms… A lifetime to look forward to and although life is transient, love is not…

_Till death do us apart… or not._

_1950_

_A young girl walks through Notre Dame's cemetery with her grandmother. The girl is a voice student in the French Music Conservatory.  
_

" _Grandma, are you sure its here?"_

" _Yes Marie, I've visited it several times myself. It is… a good source of inspiration. Ah, there it is…"_

_They walk towards two graves that stand side by side next to some rose bushes in full bloom. They are two medium-sized granite headstones, quite plain. One read:_

_Christine Daae Liszet_

_1854-1919_

_Her soul rests in Heaven as Angels sleep to her song._

_A loving wife and mother_

_The other read:_

_Erik Liszet_

_1846-1920_

_His freed soul flies to Heaven as his music continues_

_to make even the Angels weep._

_A loving husband and father_

_However, the item that attracted the eye was an angel that stood on the headstones, one foot and lower wingtip on each grave. The details were incredible making the angel seemingly alive. It was a different sort of angel, different from the others she had seen in cemeteries. Instead of serenely overlooking the graves, its eyes were facing skyward, filled with hope and its mouth was open in song. A tear ran down each cheek, and held in its hands was a carved music sheet with notes and words engraved onto it._

_The grandmother whispered to Marie, "Legend says that he carved it, the headstones and angel, himself after she died. The only thing added on after his death was, of course, his epitaph. He stopped composing after she died. He knew he would die soon as well, because he couldn't live without her. He did however, write one last song… go ahead. Look…"_

_Marie did._

> A soul of ice,   
> Feelings of fire,   
> Pure without vice,   
> Burning desires.
> 
> A crystalline freeze,   
> The flaming touch,   
> A faceless breeze,   
> Think of it much?
> 
> A haunting tune,   
> Clear as the snow,   
> Sing of the moon,   
> Foggy as shadows.
> 
> A fleeting instance,   
> Juggle the light,   
> The bittersweet dance,   
> The dark of night.
> 
> Birth of a song,   
> An ancient chant,   
> Short nor long,   
> Unending it can't.
> 
> Carried by wind,   
> Swallowed by air,   
> Surrounded by kin,   
> Lightness with care.
> 
> Force of nature,   
> Pure of mind,   
> The heart is sure,   
> Love of all kinds.
> 
> Forever unique,   
> With certain decision,   
> Fierce and meek,   
> Revolution.
> 
> Human emotions,   
> Greater freedoms,   
> Determination,   
> Controlled vision.
> 
> A soul of ice,   
> A heart of fire,   
> One's sacrifice,   
> Passions don't tire.
> 
> So Guide my soul,   
> Free my heart,   
> I need you,   
> Now and Forever.

" _Wow…" Marie breathed. "He really did love her didn't he, Grandma? He really was an incredible genius, I mean, we're working on one of his operas right now."_

" _I know Marie," her grandmother said, "but do you know what else people say?"_

_Marie whispered, "People say that a miracle surrounds this area. Those roses always, without fail, go to full bloom in the middle of May, and their always red and white. They also say that the stone is not affected by anything, whether it's time, weather, the bombs, or fire. Now, I believe it for sure!"_

_Her grandmother gave a light laugh, "I believe it too, and it's a great symbol to artists everywhere nowadays. It symbolizes the power of the arts at their full extent, a language of the heart and soul."_

_Marie then took her grandmother's hand and started to walk home. However, she took one last glance back, and as the sun set behind the two graves, she could have sworn that the angel smiled as it sung…_

_And in the darkness of that night, as the moon rose and the first stars appeared, a haunting melody entwined itself around the two graves, weaving an everlasting testimony that would continue to inspire generations afterwards…_

 

_**Fine.** _

**Author's Note:**

> I had planned the entire story out (not written, just planned) before I had read Susan Kay's Phantom, and you can probably tell from my um… comment that in between planning this story and writing it, I read it. In doing so, I found some parallels in my story and it that are coincidental such as the breech birth. The only knowledge I had beforehand from some other fan fiction was that his mother was named Madeleine… Also, it will be mostly based on the 2004 movie because I still know it a bit better, because I read the books only after I saw it. (Although I love the books.)


End file.
